The Preacher's Wife in Bondage

CHAPTER FIVE

They had let Ellen go. Joe wisely saw that she was too exhausted to be much more fun. They had untied her, hosed her down like the pig they said she was, then turned her loose.

Thank God, she had managed to slip back into the parsonage without her husband noticing. There in the privacy of her bathroom, she sank to the floor, her muddied dress puddled around her while she sat and stared blankly at the toilet. Yes, they had used her like a toilet, something to piss in.

Sliding her trembling, icy fingers around her narrow shoulders, Ellen felt her thighs rippling once more as she thought of the men – of how Joe's prick had felt sliding over her tongue while his leathery balls dragged across her forehead. How good it had felt when all that hot cum gushed down her throat. And all the while, his brother was fucking her ass, slipping his cock meat into her asshole and tearing at her tits with his fingers! And it had happened there in the open, on the ground.

They had fucked like dogs, like the beasts of the woods, as her husband would say. Ellen felt her lips curling into a wry smile while a laugh started to bubble to her lips.

No! It was Satan doing this!

Dragging herself to her feet, the frantic woman turned on the cold water of the shower, letting the spray sting into her body as she hauled herself into the stall. Cleansing! Yes, she needed a spiritual cleansing, just as this water was washing the vile filth from her body.

Her husband couldn't do it. She could imagine his horror when she even began to tell what had happened. Any other man of God might do, she thought, and perhaps it would be better if it would be a men of some other faith. The need for absolution haunted Ellen throughout the night as she lay there next to her unsuspecting husband, snoring by her side. She thought she could feel the flames of hell already licking about her, singeing her flesh that healed once more, only to burn again. It was a long night.

In the morning, Ellen resolved to see old Reverend Davis in Hyatsville, twenty miles away. He was of some off-beat sect, she knew, not a member of the Baptist Church her husband belonged to. But he was known as a good, kind man. Leaving quietly after giving her husband his breakfast, Ellen drove down the two-lane road, her fingers gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. Would she have the courage to confess to this older man? She had met him only twice. It would be like getting into a cold pool – one step at a time.

She parked in front of Reverend Davis' old two-story Victorian home for several minutes before finding the courage to step from her car. Hugging her black purse protectively to her tits, she climbed the long set of wooden steps and was about to knock when the large front door opened.

"Why, Ellen Weathersby! What a pleasant surprise. Is Michael with you?"

Ellen shook her head, unable to find the courage to speak. She felt his hand rest comfortingly on her right shoulder, the fingers grasping her firmly yet gently.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, Reverend Davis. I must see you. I have to talk with you… in private. I… I must confess." Raising her eyes, she saw a cloud pass over his face as he tilted his head to one side and looked penetratingly at her. She felt him drawing her gently into the parsonage.

"Yes of course, my child. I understand there are certain things a minister's wife must say to a minister who isn't her husband. Come in," he whispered, his voice hauntingly hypnotic.

Ellen kept her eyes modestly lowered, feeling her chin trembling. Sitting on the flowered sofa in the living room, Ellen gathered what she could of her resolve and began her story. Much of what had happened was intentionally left out. The details of her bondage, the pissing wane, the roping – all were modified, including her own intense feelings, although Ellen admitted she did enjoy herself somewhat.

When she was through, she looked up and saw Reverend Davis' gray eyes glowing with a startingly unnatural intensity. She cringed, realizing it was the same look Joe Crenshaw had given her!

"There, my child," Reverend Davis said, his voice thicker than before. "We must pray, Ellen."

He grabbed her roughly by the right arm, pulling her from the couch and dragging her across the room. Ellen would have cried out in painful surprise, but she wanted to do nothing to offend this man of God. She followed him through the dark silent house, walking through the kitchen to a small door to the right of the refrigerator.

"I have a private chapel downstairs. A special place like this is what you need," he said, backing away and motioning with one hand for her to descend.

Ellen obeyed, carefully avoiding his touch and moving down the stairs.

When he joined her, Reverend Davis had changed, catching her by the throat and wheeling her around. Ellen cried out, feeling his fingernails cutting into her neck.

"Whore! Whore of Babylon!" he shrieked, his face red and pinched. "You have disgraced a man of God! As his wife, you've brought shame on him and his faith. You must pay!"

"No? No! Please, no!"

Ellen was terrified. She was trapped with this maniac! He was mad! Struggling, Ellen pummeled the good reverend with her fists, kicking his ankles. He kept shouting at her, striking her across the face with his free hand while increasing the pressure against her windpipe with the other. Ellen felt her knees giving way, her body angling toward the floor. She felt his fingers flailing away at her cheeks, making them burn as she collapsed to the floor. In a half-faint, she heard the reverend still shouting at her, kicking her in the ribs, then tearing at her clothes. She felt her dress shredding under his maniacal attack. As she fought her way back to consciousness, she felt him dragging her over the uneven concrete floor, her legs trailing out behind her.

When she was fully conscious again, she discovered herself prone on a narrow bench, her shoulder blades and thighs dangling over the edges. Looking up, she saw she was in a small room, a tiny window admitting a shaft of light high overhead. Ellen raised herself from the wooden surface, drawing one hand over her forehead and looking around. There were iron rings set in the cinderblock wall with their buckled straps banging open invitingly. Letting out a gasp, the woman peered down and saw two more straps hanging down from either side of the bench.

No! This was a nightmare! She had cast herself into hell!

Reverend Davis had since removed his black coat, still keeping on the black vest that covered a wrinkled, sweat-stained white shirt. His silver hair was no longer neat. It stood up, giving him the look of a raving lunatic. He had his back turned to her, his hands busily fishing in the drawer of a green metal cabinet. Ellen slowly, carefully put one foot down, feeling her tits swelling in her bra as she began to slide off the hard bench.

"Whore!"

He had seen her. He had purposely done this, waiting for her to make a move! Wheeling around, Reverend Davis towered over the cringing woman, jerking one hand high over her head and bringing down his fist against her right cheek. Ellen screamed, his knuckles bruising her flesh while the blow sent her thudding back to the bench. She lay half-on, half-off, her hair dangling in her eyes.

Reverend Davis pulled her around, grabbing her right leg and pulling it straight and up until her ankle was brushing against the wall. He was looping the black leather strap around it, careful to push it just behind the ball of her foot, then pulling the strap through the buckle and cinching it tight enough to pinch the skin pink. Ellen felt him take the other leg, puffing it away from her body and spreading her cunt open. He was stretching her thighs apart to an extent she wouldn't have thought possible.

It seemed to her as if the eyes of the whole world and of heaven itself were on the blonde triangle curled around her swollen pussy. It was a wicked, wicked thought, but Ellen could feel her cunt starting to tingle as the good reverend bound her left ankle to the wall strap.

"No, no, please, let me go!"

"You'll repent before I set you free," Reverend Davis said severely, his thick eyebrows knitting together over his long Roman nose.

"But I do now! I do! I repent!" Ellen cried.

"Liar! All God's enemies repent when they fear. But I'll know when you truly are sorry for your behavior."

Reverend Davis tested the tension of her taut thighs and legs thoughtfully. Then, brushing the pussy hairs to one side, he examined her open cunt-gash, seeing the telltale glistening of the juices starting to flow from her hot little pussy. He pursed his lips, nodding his head as if discovering a scientific fact. He tightened the straps until Ellen winced, her face pale from the pain as she tossed her head from side to side. Her cunt was stretching wide open. She could feel the cunt-folds pulling apart from the increased pressure, her clit starting to swell and stand up from the pool of bubbling cunt-juices around its base.

Reverend Davis shook his head, moving around and taking her right arm and pulling it down and forward. He buckled her wrist to the forward leg of the bench, tightening the broad strap. He did the same with the other hand, making Ellen believe he had done this many times before. When he had finished, she was completely bound to the bench and the wall, her ass flat against the wood while her cunt was peeled open.

"Now, we'll see how you repent."

Going back to the cabinet, Reverend Davis returned with a black leather cat-o'-nine-tails in his hand, the strips of leather and their knotted ends filling Ellen's eyes with a terrible vision.

She groaned, twisting against the restraints, feeling the straps cutting into her flesh again as the minister examined her and bit his lip. He obviously was experiencing temptation, the temptation the Crenshaws and she had given in to all too willingly.

Reverend Davis shook the wicked thoughts from his head, bringing the cat down to her belly and letting the leather strips slide across her shivering flesh. Ellen raised her head and peered over the tips of her hard long nipples. The black leather contrasted with her white flesh as it snaked across her tits. The minister drew the smooth cat over her nipples, letting the strips fall around her full, high-riding tits before dragging them back over her tummy and onto her cunt.

Ellen heaved her thighs around, feeling the leather teasing her pussy. He was purposely doing this, drawing the whip over her body lightly, increasing the heat she felt coursing through her belly and cunt until she couldn't stand it anymore. Tiny beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead, while unholy pulses of delight throbbed through her stretched-open cunt.

"Whore! I knew you hadn't repented!" he barked, snapping the cat off her body and letting the strips crackle against one another over her head.

Ellen screamed, dropping her head back down while her rounded eyes took in the horrid scene.

"But I know how to drive the devil from you. I've done it with others, and I'll do it with you!"

Ellen watched the strands crack against one another like battling snakes. Then they came down, smacking dryly against the white flesh drawn tautly over her ribcage. She shrieked, arching her spine and beating her head against the wooden bench as a fiery pain spread from her ribs to her navel.

"No, uo, don't do this! God in heaven, why are you doing this to me?" she screamed.

Long red stripes appeared on her flesh as she blinked away the tears and waited for the next blow. Reverend Davis' face was purple with rage as he peered down at her cunt and saw a trickle of juice seeping from her cunt-hole and dampening the wooden surface of his bench.

"Whore! You like this! I can see it! We'll just see how much more of this you can enjoy!"

He slashed the crop across Ellen's right nipple, the slicing pain making her shriek in agony and arch her spine once more. She jerked her right leg back instinctively, her knees popping from the strain while the shock of the pain made her piss down her thigh. She felt the warm piss staining her flesh and thought once more about the Crenshaw boys pissing on her.

Yes, yes, this was the punishment for the crime! She ground her teeth together, hating herself and the men who had brought her down to this level.

"Bitch pig! You low everything I throw at you! You slut! You aren't worthy enough to eat the shit of decent men!"

His voice cracked through the air, breaking through the sounds of the leather strips snapping over her head. Ellen screwed her face into a mask of agony once more, feeling the pulse beating through her throat as she felt the tiny splinters knifing into her ass. Her arms ached from being strapped down that way while her cunt seemed to peel open, swollen from excitement. Once more he lashed out, the knot ends of the cat chewing into her right tit.

Ellen shrieked, her voice shrilling while long red stripes disfigured her tits. A second blow nearly peeled a narrow strip of flesh from her other tit. She writhed with the throbbing agony of the blows. She felt the warm wetness of her perspiration trailing down her body, oozing into her tight little ass-crack. She thought of the men pissing on her, of the piss spattering over her cunt and tits.

No, no, she couldn't think of things like that! Surely it would show, and he would punish her more for it.

"Slut! I'll beat Satan out of you!" he cried, his face now red and disfigured by an unholy glee as he brought the cat down again and again against her tortured body.

Ellen's cries gurgled together, the woman choking on her own spit as the leather smacked into her again and again. Her navel filled with sweat while the minister ripped at the tight-fitting collar choking his throat and leered down at her. That awful look was something between hatred and lust.

He came closer to Ellen, fondling the warm strips of the cat with one finger while he brought the back of one hand up against her cunt.

"Uh! No!"

He was jabbing three fingers in her pussy, twisting them around while rubbing her clit with his thumb. Ellen's mouth flew open in shock while her shoulder blades writhed against the splintery bench. When the leather strips bit into her ankle, the woman was sure they had crushed her small bones. Lurching back, Reverend Davis snapped the cat twice, making Ellen scream from the popping sound before bringing it down with a whooshing crash against her cunt.

"Aiyeeeeeeee!"

Ellen screamed as loudly as she could, her pussy exploding into hot, flashing fires while the swollen cunt-flesh throbbed under the savage attack. She came, came as hard as she ever had with the agony knifing through her climax at the same time. Twisting back and forth savagely, the wild woman jerked against her bonds, her body making the small bench scrape over the uneven floor.

Reverend Davis watched with wide eyes, his lips smacking while dribbles of saliva oozed down his chin. Ellen stared wildly. He could see! God in heaven, he could see that she came right in front of him. She was rutting there, climaxing again and again while he watched.

"Arghghhhh!"

The crop lashed across her face, leaving long red marks over her cheeks, then cut savagely across the tops of her tits. Ellen struggled, moving her legs as best she could while the leather straps cut into her ankles and wrists. She felt her fingers going numb.

She screamed back at the reverend, a stream of filth coming from her mouth that only could have been inspired by Satan, himself.

"Good," Reverend Davis said, backing away for a moment and drawing the back of one hairy hand over his sweaty forehead. "We've summoned the beast in you. Now, we must drive him out."

Ellen trembled at that.